


before i rust, let's shine again

by orange_creamsicle



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hospitals, Terminal Illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-21 20:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30027456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orange_creamsicle/pseuds/orange_creamsicle
Summary: The clock strikes 12 and fireworks burst in spectacular colors against the darkness.Momo extends a hand out to the side. "We're gonna leave this hospital together, okay?"Sana doesn't move her eyes from the colors that sparkle across the sky, but instead takes Momo's hand wordlessly with the other.
Relationships: Hirai Momo/Minatozaki Sana
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	before i rust, let's shine again

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this tweet](https://twitter.com/tonidoodles/status/1213342459528404992) from @tonidoodles. 
> 
> I know it's in the tags, but I just want to let you guys know beforehand as well that this one gets kind of heavy. Terminal illness, cancer, and death are all very, very present. 
> 
> Huge shoutout to [criswrites121](https://archiveofourown.org/users/criswrites121), without whom this would not be what it is. Thank you so much cris!

The butterflies are the main attraction.

The mesh net hangs in the far corner of the room, catching the few pure rays of sunlight that make it through the window and sparkling into magnificent colors like a prism of glass. Inside is a jumble of the brightest patterns on wings thinner than paper. The most fragile of things and yet the most beautiful.

With the door closed behind them, the nurse that accompanies her carefully unzips the fabric and the butterflies escape in a flurry of colors, wings fluttering gently as they take to the air and settle around the room.

Some of the more curious creatures hover around her as if she were a princess and they fairies, the white-yellow of the sun reflecting off of iridescent pinks and oranges and reds like panes of painted glass. Though the trees and flowers are painted on the walls, the way the butterflies flutter about brings a sense of magic that makes it feel real; for once, the hospital’s silent halls don’t seem sad and cold and instead are the quiet, soothing calm of a forest of gentle green.

Her eyes dart around to capture every single one of the flying butterflies, her small legs not strong enough to launch her far when she leaps to try and catch one in her outstretched hands. The girl next to her makes her way over to the net. She’s only as tall as the very bottom end of the white fabric and careful not to jostle the IV tube connected to her arm as she cautiously reaches into the net. When she finally emerges, there’s something concealed within her hands.

“Momo-chan,” The other girl says with a smile as she extends her cupped palms out invitingly, beckoning her over. “This one is my favorite.”

She carefully removes her top hand to reveal the butterfly nestled gently in her palm, brightest blue, the color of peacock feathers and periwinkles, gorgeous except for one imperfection in the twist of one of its wings. When its brothers and sisters took off into the open air, this little one had to stay, unable to fly after them.

“It’s beautiful,” Momo breathes reverently, her eyes transfixed on the azure creature.

“Sana, honey, it’s time to go.” The nurses call. “Dr. Im is waiting for you.”

“‘Bye, little guy,” Sana softly whispers. When the butterfly steps lightly from her hand into Momo’s, she allows one of the nurses to lead her from the colorful room.

Momo watches through the small window pane on the door as Dr. Im greets Sana with a warm smile, ruffling her hair and nodding animatedly at Sana’s bright words as the two walk down the white halls. They turn at the first corner and are out of sight.

She looks back down at her hand, entranced. The butterfly sits calmly against her fingers, its barely-there touch lighter than the tip of a feather against her skin. Minutes pass in silence as she simply gazes at the little creature, unable to draw her eyes away from its beautiful wings. Its brothers and sisters fly around regardless, content with being forgotten.

When a nurse comes by to take her back to her room for a routine check-up, she doesn’t want to go. Still, she makes sure to be as careful as Sana as she returns the butterfly to the net, letting it go as gently as possible so as not to break its fragile wings. It’s only then that she realizes that there are still others, fluttering around happily, sometimes settling against the windowsill or on one of the painted flowers on the wall.

“How do they go back inside?” She asks as they walk her back to her room.

“They fly back when it’s time to sleep, because the net is safe and warm like their own bed.” The nurse smiles gently.

That night, as she falls asleep in her own white hospital bed, Momo dreams of colors sparkling in the white-yellow light, of hands outstretched towards her, and of wings of the brightest blue.

\--

“You don’t look sick,” Sana says suddenly one day, setting her fistful of colored pencils down on the small table in the corner to look at Momo with round, curious eyes. “Why are you here?”

“I have a hole in my heart,” Momo says as she reaches across Sana’s arms for the brown pencil that teeters on the edge of the desk. “The doctors at home couldn’t fix it but they said the doctors here could, so my mom decided to bring me here.”

“Oh.” Sana answers. She goes back to coloring with a nod.

“My best friend is still there though.”

“You must miss her.”

“Yeah. She writes letters every week so it isn’t so bad. Mostly I miss my puppy, Boo.” She gestures down to the little dog’s half-filled face and Sana looks at it with interest. She can’t see what’s on the other girl’s paper yet, just the mix of pinks and purples that she holds in her hand.

“Your friend must be really nice if she sends you letters every week. That’s a lot of writing.”

“She is. She’s also really smart so her letters are like a whole page long. But I can read them all,” Momo says with a big grin. The way Sana smiles back at her is sad. Momo suddenly worries that she hasn’t gotten any letters from anyone and hurriedly adds, “I can ask her to write you letters too if you want.”

Sana’s smile grows just the slightest bit wider. “I would like that.” She turns her attention back to her paper and starts filling in blank spaces with bits of pink. Momo still can’t see what she’s drawing.

“What do you miss about home?”

“I was really little when I came here, so I don’t really remember,” Sana says, her brow furrowed as she concentrates on her drawing.

“You mean you’ve never gone back?”

Sana shakes her head. “‘Kasan says I’m not well enough to travel, so I mostly just stay here. My family comes to visit on holidays or on my birthday, but I also spend them with Dr. Im! She’s really pretty and really nice.”

“But isn’t it lonely?”

“It is sometimes,” Sana says with honest eyes. “But not right now.”

Soon, Sana is pulled away again for an appointment with Dr. Im, and a part of Momo worries that her friend must be really sick if she’s been at the hospital for such a long time.

When they meet again the next day, Sana gives Momo a folded piece of paper. She opens it carefully to find a mosaic of pink and purple wings.

She smiles when, a week later, Momo pulls out two envelopes and gives one to her, ‘Minatozaki Sana’ neatly printed on the front in Mina’s steady hand. They read the letters aloud, their words echoing in the silence of Momo’s hospital room.

\--

Momo spends her seventh birthday in the hospital.

They throw a little party in her hospital room; the nurses decorate the walls with streamers and banners and posters with a certain excitement in their eyes, even going so far as to put big bright pink balloons next to Momo's bed as she's sleeping so she has a nice surprise to wake up to. There aren't many people there, just her family, Dr. Yoo, and Mina, who joins in through a video call from Japan. Sana comes later, her eyes lighting up as she takes in the bright colors that decorate Momo's room, but her voice is hoarse and she leans heavily on Dr. Im. Still, when the nurses come in with a big chocolate cake topped with eight glowing candles, everyone sings their loudest and somehow it feels no different from if she was celebrating with her friends back home.

The smallest gift box in the pile that sits on the table in her room has a beautifully tied pink ribbon and a tag that has Sana's name in her neatest handwriting. Inside is a pin in the shape of a small Norwich terrier with a little red ribbon on its head, looking up at Momo with round, eager brown eyes.

"It's Boo," Sana murmurs with a smile. "Mina showed me what he looked like and Dr. Im helped me find it."

"It looks just like him!" Momo exclaims. "Thank you, Satang!" She wraps Sana into a hug, feeling her friend's arms do the same around her own body.

It's only when she pulls away, Dr. Im gently calling her back to her room, that Momo notices, for the first time, the shades of blue and black and purple that run down Sana's arms.

In a flash, Momo insists on accompanying Sana back to her room. It doesn't take much convincing for Dr. Im to agree and Sana smiles happily when Momo carefully joins their hands as they walk down the halls. Momo watches as the nurses tuck Sana into her bed, her eyes drooping almost immediately. She looks small against the sheets; Momo doesn't know if it's because she's little or if she's really sick.

"Is someone hurting Sana?" She asks out loud.

Dr. Im gives her a quizzical look. "No, kiddo. Why would you think that?"

"But then why does she have so many bruises on her arms?"

It's quiet for a moment. Then Dr. Im kneels so that she's eye-to-eye with Momo, the edges of her white coat dragging against the hospital's cold tiled floors. Her hair is soft as it falls well past her shoulders and Momo finds that her hands get lost unconsciously in its long, comforting waves. Dr. Im doesn't seem to mind.

"All of our bodies have an army that protects us, made out of little things called white blood cells, and we also have the normal red blood cells that give us oxygen and group together to stop cuts from bleeding too much. Most people have just enough white blood cells to keep them safe and healthy, but Sana's body can't stop making them. She has more bruises because there isn't enough space for her to make the good red ones."

"So that's your job? To help her body make more red blood cells?"

"Yes, that's my job sometimes," Dr. Im says as she stands up to look through a clipboard in her hand. "But mostly I'm trying to stop the disease that's forcing Sana to make more white blood cells, so that she can get better."

"Dr. Im?"

"Hmm?"

"How long until Sana gets better? I want to play outside with her and take her to meet my friends in Japan."

The doctor gives her a funny look and Momo thinks there's something sad in her eyes and face that she's trying to hide. "Sana... has been sick for a long time, so I don't know how long it will take. But she's really strong and has been doing really, really well."

Dr. Im ruffles Momo's hair as one of the nurses comes around to whisper something in her ear. "I've gotta go now, kiddo," She says to Momo. "But I promise you, I'll do everything I can to make sure Sana gets better."

At the word 'promise', Momo extends out a pinky. Dr. Im hesitates for a second, but takes it with a small smile before she hurries down the hallway and out of sight, following the beeping of the pager in the pocket of her white coat.

Sana's birthday comes around a month later, right on the heels of Christmas, and they celebrate in equal fashion to Momo's: her room is decorated with streamers and balloons, and as she blows out the candles atop her strawberry-flavored cake, her parents, Dr. Im, Mina (on a video call), and Momo are there to cheer her on.

When Sana hugs her new little stuffed teddy bear to her chest, Momo fills to the brim with happiness. Monogrammed on the little one's green shirt are the words _"From Momoring"_ , which Sana brushes lovingly before slowly making her way over to her best friend and wrapping her arms around her even more tightly than with the bear.

Sana is still just as tired and thin, bruises spread all along her arms, but when Dr. Im comes around to press a kiss lovingly against her patient’s forehead and wish her the happiest of birthdays, Momo is hopeful. 

On New Year's Eve, they meet in the evening by one of the hospital's big bay windows, looking out on parts of Seoul as the sun sets in pinks and oranges behind puffy, snow-filled clouds.

The clock strikes 12 and fireworks burst in spectacular colors against the darkness.

Momo extends a hand out to the side. "We're gonna leave this hospital together, okay?"

With Momo's teddy in one hand, Sana doesn't move her eyes from the colors that sparkle across the sky, but instead takes Momo's hand wordlessly with the other.

\--

It's early March, new buds are just reaching up from underneath the thin layer of snow and ice on the ground, a sign of flowers that will blossom into beautiful colors in the coming months.

"I want you to meet someone," Dr. Yoo says as she beckons someone in from the hallway. Momo watches as another lady in a white coat comes in, shorter than Dr. Yoo, with tanner skin, long brown hair, and big round eyes. "This is Dr. Park Jihyo," Dr. Yoo says, and the new woman waves brightly. "She's going to be your cardio-thoracic surgeon for the operation."

"What's that?"

"I'm going to help Dr. Yoo replace your heart with a new, better one," Dr. Park says. Momo is instantly drawn into her kind eyes and confident words.

"Dr. Park is the best this hospital has to offer," Dr. Yoo says with a smile. "If everything goes well, which I'm sure it will, you'll be out of here in no time."

It's early March, and the new buds that reach out from underneath the snow and ice are just like the hope that blossoms in Momo's heart that sometime, very soon, she'll finally be going home.

\--

The weeks after the surgery fly by. Every day, Dr. Park and Dr. Yoo come in to check on her and confirm that yes, the new heart is responding very well to all tests and has no problems in its new home. Momo enjoys her days in the butterfly room, by the big bay windows, and, most of all, in Sana's room.

While Momo's stay at the hospital is coming to a near end, Sana stays on. Dr. Im tells her that while Sana is getting better every day, she won't finish the treatment—chemotherapy, Dr. Im called it—in enough time to leave with Momo.

Then the day comes. In the early hours of the morning, the nurses decorate her room to celebrate her last day in the hospital, bright colors that catch Momo's eye as soon as she wakes up. Dr. Yoo and Dr. Park each present her with certificates, happy tears in their eyes as Momo hugs each of them tightly. Before leaving, she insists on saying goodbye to Sana, hugging Dr. Im when she sees her in the room. Her face falls when she sees that Sana is asleep; Dr. Im says that the chemotherapy tires her body out faster and that she needs to rest, but she lets Momo write a letter to Sana with all of the words she wanted to say instead.

Momo does, though she can't put _everything,_ she says, there isn't enough paper. Dr. Im smiles and says that she's thankful Sana has such a great friend.

Momo finishes the letter with her phone number—just in case Sana wants to call to say hi—her address, and a promise to write whenever she can. With Dr. Im's help, she folds the paper and puts it safely in an envelope at Sana's bedside. Below it, she leaves a mosaic of pink and purple wings on paper, joined by a brightest blue mosaic just below it. Next to the two butterflies she makes two last additions: her own name in rough hiragana beside the purple one and Sana's by the blue. The butterfly she added is perfect save for the slight bend of its twisted wing, but Momo thinks it's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen.

  
  
  


_10 Years Later_

"Let's go Mina-chan! Don't wanna be late on the first day!" Momo rushes down the stairs two at a time, breakfast in one hand and backpack slung across the other shoulder as she concentrates on not tripping over her untied shoelaces.

"Funny how you're the one talking when you're not even ready yet," Mina says with a smirk as she watches Momo fumble around. By contrast, she's already finished her breakfast, her backpack is safely hung around both shoulders, and her shoelaces are very much tied.

"Well, we don't want to be late, do we?" There's a dopey grin on Momo's face and Mina can't help but roll her eyes, unconsciously going over to straighten up the loose papers that hang precariously from the wide open zipper on Momo's backpack before they all fall out into a jumbled mess. She kneels down to tie Momo's shoelaces for good measure, as the older is preoccupied with scarfing down the breakfast in her hands.

"Thank you Mitaaang," Momo says incoherently, mouth stuffed with bread.

"Bye, Okaasan!" Mina calls as she leaves the apartment, Momo right on her heels. Even though Mina might be trying to keep a straight face, she's secretly super excited about today and Momo knows it.

It is, after all, a special day.

For one, it's Mina's first time in Seoul and Momo's first time in a decade. Though her memories of the city are _very_ limited, there's a certain excitement at being able to go to a brand new school with her best friend, even more so to both move to Korea's capital to join one of the most renowned dance teams in the world.

Mina pulls out the car keys and wordlessly gets in the driver's seat as Momo slings her stuff into the trunk. After all, Mina's always been the better driver.

"Do we know where JYP High is?"

"Well, I do." Mina grins. "I’m not sure about you though."

"Hey, not nice!" Momo says indignantly, though they're both laughing as Mina starts the engine and pulls the little gray sedan out onto the streets of Seoul.

When they pull up at the school, Momo jumps out of the car as fast as she can and practically books it onto the campus.

"Hey, wait up!" Mina cries, and Momo slows ever so slightly to allow her best friend to catch up. She does in record time and says with a huff, "What was that for?"

"I just wanna get a look around, Mitang! It's our new school!"

Right on cue, the bell to go to class sounds and the students that linger in the hallways slowly head to their first classes of the day.

"I don't think you'll have enough time for that," Mina remarks, earning a pout from Momo. The younger girl pulls a schedule out of a pocket in her bag and takes a look at it. "What class do you have first?"

"Korean literature. You?"

"Calculus."

"Ha, loser."

"Meet up at lunch in the cafeteria?"

"Yeah, I'll see you then. Have fun, Mitang!"

"You too, Momoring!"

They go their separate ways and lose each other in the sea of students. Momo vaguely realizes that she has absolutely no idea what JYP's campus looks like and, unlike Mina, she doesn't have a map on her. By way of sheer luck, it's a miracle then that she finds herself in front of Room 502, Korean Literature with Mrs. Lee, with just seconds left to spare before class officially starts.

Momo hurries into the classroom and takes the first available seat she can find, somewhere in the middle of the classroom closest to the aisle, and chances a glance at her seat-mate.

She freezes.

Because sitting next to her, staring right back at her as if she had seen a ghost, is Minatozaki Sana.

\--

"Sana? I– what– how–?" Are the first things that slip from Momo's lips the minute Mrs. Lee sets them free to get to know their seat-mates.

"I could ask you the same thing," Sana says. Her eyes—still the exact same shade of chocolate brown that Momo remembers from all those years ago—shine with absolute disbelief. "How are you here? Didn't you go back to Japan?"

"My best friend and I just moved here this summer for dance."

"Your best friend? Mina? She's here too?"

Momo nods, her mouth agape. "You still remember her?"

"Of course I do! How could I not?"

"I can't even believe you're here!"

"I never left," Sana says softly, the shock in her voice making way for a tinge of sadness.

Momo is about to respond when Mrs. Lee calls for attention and begins the first lesson of the year, leaving all of Momo's questions stuck right at the edges of her lips.

\--

"What happened after I left?" Momo asks as soon as class ends, sticking close to Sana as they pack up their things.

"I was discharged after finishing chemo," Sana explains. "And we were going to move back to Japan, but I ended up getting sick again. I spent a lot of time in and out of the hospital, so eventually my parents decided to just permanently stay here, in Seoul. That way if I ever got sick, help would always be close by."

"So you've never been back, not even once?"

"No," Sana admits. "But Dr. Im says that if I’m healthy enough, I can make a trip there at the end of senior year. Actually," Sana's cheeks have a sudden tinge of pink in them, just a few shades lighter than the color of her hair. "One of the things I wanted to do was visit you."

"We can go together after we graduate," Momo says suddenly. "I always wanted to show you around Kyoto and introduce you to some of my friends back home." The words come out before she even realizes what she's said. "Only if you want to, though."

"I–yeah, actually," Sana says.

"Really?"

"I want to learn all about the things I've missed. All about your friends, all about Japan, all about... _you._ "

Sana abashedly turns away. They both have a class coming up to go to. They're about to leave when Momo notices a drawing stuck in the cover of the binder in Sana's hand: two butterflies, one a mosaic of pink and purple and the other brightest blue.

"You kept it," Momo breathes, eyes transfixed on the old sketch.

"It's never left my side."

\--

Day by day, Momo finds herself spending more and more time with Sana.

Some of it can't be helped: they find out that along with first period Korean literature, they actually have four classes together. It becomes a habit for them to sit together in classes where there isn't assigned seating, simply because they're both more comfortable next to each other than they would be with anyone else.

Most of it, though, comes outside of that. Of course, having so many shared classes leads naturally to the excuse of meeting up after school to work on homework or shared projects. And they do — some of the time. It quickly becomes commonplace for Momo and Sana to sit together at lunch, to stop by the ice cream shop after school as they work on homework together, and to walk each other home as the sun sets, hands gently interlocked at their sides.

Mina smirks knowingly one day when Momo comes home to the apartment with the sweet scent of Sana's strawberry chapstick on her lips, but Momo knows she doesn't mind. After all, she and Sana haven't been _too_ distracted to notice that Mina's spending all of her time these days with the junior from her Calculus class: tall, kind, and stunningly pretty Chou Tzuyu.

“I want to take you here,” Momo says as she passes Sana an old, folded photograph. In it, she’s four years old and mid-laugh as her chubby hands reach out to touch the leaves falling from a flowering sakura, its pink petals forever suspended in time alongside her beaming smile. “I think you would like it.” 

“I’ve always wanted to see a real sakura.” 

“They remind me of you. Strong, steady, beautiful. Not to mention the pink hair.” Sana’s laugh tinkles through the air with the clear tone of a bell. 

_It’s easy to fall for Sana,_ Momo thinks as they lay side by side on the soft grass, looking up at the slowly setting sun with the remnants of their ice cream sweet and sticky on their lips. She loves fiercely, fully, with every cell in her body. She somehow manages to bring out the best in others. She gives everything she has without thinking twice, taking in every emotion with those expressive, ever-changing eyes, her soul laid out for others to paint their worlds in.

And, as Momo fills in the white spaces with shapes and colors, shows more of herself to Sana, she feels Sana doing the same for her, touching every part of her soul and filling all of the empty cracks in her beating heart.

Sana waits for her with a dazzling smile.

It's easy to fall in love with Sana, Momo doesn't even need to try. All she needs to do is let herself go, let herself drown in the depths of Sana's eyes, let herself fall into Sana's waiting arms.

So she does.

\--

Things change slowly, then all at once.

As fall fades into winter, Sana arrives at school more often than not with dark circles under her eyes, her face gaunter than Momo has ever seen. She insists that she's okay, that it's just a case of winter fatigue, that she usually feels a bit weak during the first few cold weeks, but every time Momo catches Sana clutching at her joints and wincing in pain when she thinks Momo isn't looking, it breaks her heart.

Sana doesn't show up to class one day. She has never, not once, missed a day of school in her senior year. Momo waits outside of Room 502, Korean Literature, for Sana to burst through the doors to the hallway, her pink hair flowing in the wind behind her as she rushes to make it to class without being late. The bell rings to start class but Momo still doesn't move, watching the hallway door intently and knowing that any second now, Sana will appear with her butterfly binder and bright smile.

She doesn't, and eventually Mrs. Lee comes outside to call Momo into class.

 _Maybe she just has an appointment or something,_ Momo thinks between classes. _She’ll be here by the end of the day for sure._

But lunch comes and goes and there's still no sign of Sana. Mina stays close to Momo and watches as her eyes flick frantically between the door and the clock. Noon passes, then the bell rings for the afternoon classes to start. Mina wraps her arms around Momo as her best friend's face falls and just holds her at the table, whispering calming words into Momo's ears as her shoulders shake with silent sobs.

For the first time all year, Momo skips the ice cream shop and instead walks home alone, her hand unconsciously grasping for another against her side.

Momo is alone again on Tuesday, then on Wednesday, then on Thursday.

When Sana is nowhere to be seen on Friday, Momo wordlessly accepts the car keys from Mina, who murmurs that she'll hitch a ride home with Tzuyu.

Momo sits in the drivers' seat of the little gray sedan, her hands stuck in fists at her side and her eyes forcibly shut, trapped in her own memories for a few moments. Then she slowly starts the car and backs out of the parking lot, navigation set on an address she hasn't been to in more than a decade.

Inside, Asan Medical Center is much the same as what she remembers: white walls, white floors, the scent of antiseptic permeating the hallways just as much as the quiet sadness that drowns the hospital. Momo feels a fierce tug of familiarity in her chest and for a flash she's six years old again, walking the hospital's silent hallways with her parents for the first time.

The feeling doesn't fade as she walks up to the receptionist's desk and asks for the room of Minatozaki Sana. There's a flash of recognition behind the nurse's eyes as Momo gives her her name, but honestly, even if she did somehow remember Momo from all of those years ago, Momo has seen too many nurses for all of their names and faces to stay in her mind. And her memories—most of them, at least—of the hospital are not ones that she prefers to linger on.

She passes more familiar faces as she weaves her way through the hospital's maze of white hallways on the way to Sana's room, and this time she doesn't feel she can just ignore them.

"Dr Yoo! Dr Park!" Momo calls out to two women in long white coats, stethoscopes hanging around their necks as they talk at the check-in desk. At the sound of their names, both women turn to face Momo, their eyes shifting from pleasant inquiry to slight confusion as they watch her approach them with a wave.

Though Dr. Yoo's hair now extends just below her shoulders in waves of dark brown and Dr. Park's is cut in a short brown bob with bangs, neither woman appears to have changed much over the years. Both are still beautiful, their eyes still bright and curious and kind, their backs still straight and strong, almost unchanged aside from the few more lines of experience on both of their faces. Momo realizes that both of her doctors must have been younger than she thought.

"I'm Momo," Momo says quickly, realizing that they've probably seen too many patients over the years to remember every single one, especially since she was their patient as a child. Recognition washes over both of their faces and the polite smiles on their faces grow into bright ones.

"Momo!" Dr. Yoo says, surprised. "Wow, you're all grown up, has it really been that long?"

"10 years, Dr. Yoo," Momo responds as Dr. Yoo pulls her into a hug.

"You're so tall," Dr. Park says, and Momo suddenly realizes how weird it is that she is looking down into the surgeon's big eyes instead of up at them. "How old are you now?"

"18, Dr. Park. I'm a senior in high school."

"I suddenly feel old," Dr. Park responds with a rueful smile and Momo can't help but laugh.

Dr. Yoo's pager suddenly screams and she looks down at it with a small groan. "Well, duty calls. Have fun with Jihyo." She ruffles Momo's hair without a second thought, just like she used to all those years ago, and Momo grins at her when she stops at the corner and looks back for a second before going off to see her patients.

"How's the heart treating you?"

"I've never had a problem with it, it's always felt like my own. I'm always going to be grateful to you and Dr. Yoo, for everything really."

Dr. Park – Jihyo – shyly waves off the comment. "Oh, don't say that, it's just our job. I'm just glad you didn't have any complications."

"I still have the scar though, from the surgery."

"That I can't fix," Dr. Park responds, humor shining good-heartedly in her eyes.

"I'm going to be honest," She adds after a moment. "Jeongyeon and I didn't think we would be seeing you again."

"I didn't think I'd ever be back. I didn't want to come back, really. Especially not for something like this."

When she meets Dr. Park's eyes, she sees her own grief and sadness reflected in them and her heart sinks when she realizes the conversation has come back around to the one thing she refused to let herself think about for the past few weeks, the one thought in the back of her mind that scares her beyond belief.

"I'm going to need to head over that way to see one of my patients," Dr. Park says. "I'll walk you to her room."

The walk through the hospital's maze of hallways is only a few minutes, but it feels like an eternity. Dr. Park drops her off at her destination with a hug before leaving.

Sana's room is still the same one from 10 years ago, the fourth door on the left in the hallway two left turns from the butterfly room. She carefully turns the handle and opens the door as quietly as she can, just as she remembers doing when she was no older than six or seven, and slips inside.

The sight of Sana, bright, thoughtful Sana, Sana who would give her everything to the person she loves, smiling at her weakly from the bed, an IV tube inserted into one hand and dark circles standing out on her pale, gaunt skin, is one that Momo thought she would never have to see.

Then Sana whispers a hoarse "Hi, Momoring" and Momo absolutely breaks.

\--

Momo comes to visit Sana every day after school since her hospitalization. She brings homework on Sana's request, keeping her up to date on whatever she missed in class that day. They work through problems together through shared bites of the hospital cafeteria's ice cream, Momo's textbook open on her lap and Sana's laid carefully against her body. Mina comes sometimes too, either with some calculus homework from Sana's teacher or just as another friend to keep Sana company.

It feels almost normal, Sana laughing uncontrollably when Momo gets some ice cream on the tip of her nose or unconsciously resting her head against Momo's shoulder as they huddle together and binge a drama on her laptop.

Sana's eyes flutter closed sometimes, sometimes her breathing skips and she winces in pain, each blue and purple bruise that flowers her skin a physical reminder of the merciless war that goes on in Sana's body.

Mina comes by less often and eventually stops altogether, unable to enter the room only to see Sana in a progressively worse state every time they visit. Some of the nurses shake their heads in disapproval, wishing that Sana had stronger friends, but Momo knows better. Mina spends more nights without sleep than ever, her laptop always open on tabs about medical programs, leukemia survival rates, and studies about cancer treatments. On the day of her last visit to Sana, Mina promises her that she'll find a cure. Her eyes dance with fire and her fists ball into angry fists at her side.

In her own way, Mina is stronger than most.

Sana's health deteriorates as the winter months pass on. Her hair, once a lively bright pink, is thin against her scalp and falls out in clumps; what remains wraps in wispy tendrils around her ears and barely makes it to her shoulders. She hardly eats, only able to keep down meager amounts of soup and small chunks of bread. More often than not she's asleep when Momo arrives from school, and though she protests when she wakes up and finds Momo sitting silently at her bedside, Momo doesn't have the heart to disrupt her from the fleeting moments of peace that sleep brings. Not when Sana has so few of them left.

On one of the many late nights Momo spends at the hospital, she finds herself at the door of the butterfly room. Or at least what used to be the butterfly room. It's the one place in the entire hospital that she doesn't immediately recognize, for instead of the small, 4-walled space painted with trees and flowers and empty save for the butterfly net, she finds a wide open garden, fresh air flowing in from the outside, separated from the rest of the hospital by clear panes of glass.

No trace of the butterflies remain, not even the white mesh net that sparkled like a crystal prism when touched by the sun.

"They built it around five years ago," Dr. Im says from next to her, interrupting Momo's tangled web of thoughts, feelings, and memories. Like Dr. Park's, the oncologist's hair is shorter than Momo remembers, ending just at her collarbones and interspersed with streaks of blonde among the brown, and she still looks young save for the heavy, haunted shades in her eyes. Momo thinks Dr. Im has changed the most, not from the passage of time, but from grief.

"The board thought that instead of the painted trees and flowers, it might be nicer to give patients an open garden to relax in, especially for the younger ones. To let them feel the fresh air within the safety of the hospital."

"It's different."

"I petitioned to keep the butterflies."

"I would have too."

"Sana asked to stop the chemotherapy."

"And what did you say?"

"I told her it would be best. Honestly, her body is just too weak to handle the radiation and fight off the cancer at the same time. Leukemias are aggressive, but Sana's... it's merciless. She's fighting a losing battle, and I think she knows that."

"How long does she have?"

"A month, maybe two at the most."

There's a pause that hangs heavy in the air, and Momo feels Dr. Im's hands shake by her side. 

"I've had so many patients over the years, young ones and old, but none have been as bright, as fierce, as strong, as fearless as Sana. She's a fighter and always has been, since the day I first met her. She's trusted me, stood by me as we fought off her leukemia, and believed in me when I said I would make sure she walked out of this hospital one day, cancer free. And we were _so damn close._ And now that I'm stopping her chemo, that I'm letting her die, it feels like I've failed her."

"Sana would never think that," Momo murmurs.

"But _you_ do." Dr. Im's voice is choked. When Momo meets her eyes, they're full of anguish. "I broke my promise to you, Momo, and I'm sorry."

"Dr. Im, you promised me that you would do everything you could to make Sana better, and you did. You treated her from the beginning. You stayed with her through multiple rounds of chemo. You beat back the cancer twice. It's just that the cancer was too strong."

The tears Dr. Im tries so hard to hold back start to flow down her cheeks.

"I would never think that you had failed Sana. I couldn't."

There are tears flowing down Momo's face too.

"You're her family just as much as I am."

\--

In the last days of her life, Sana wakes up only a few times. Each time her eyes open, Momo sees that it becomes increasingly hard for her to keep them that way, and that she spends every waking moment in intense amounts of pain.

"I love you," Momo says during her last visit. She comes everyday, but somehow she knows that this will be the last, that this time Sana won't live through the night.

Sana's eyes are red and tired and pained, but there has never been more love flowing through her gaze.

"I wanted to give you something," She says hoarsely, barely audible over the beeping of the machines keeping her alive. She puts one bony, bruised hand into Momo's while gesturing to the nightstand with the other. Momo looks at it and finds an envelope addressed to her in Sana's beautiful hand, each character painstakingly handcrafted. Momo knows it's hard for Sana to even lift her arms and marvels at the strength she would have to gather just to do something as simple as write a letter.

"Don't read the letter now," Sana whispers. "After."

Momo nods, teary-eyed. She knows what Sana means.

"I love you," She says. "I have always loved you and I always will."

"I know." Sana's eyes flutter shut for one painful, agonizing second, but they slowly open again. "Momoring?"

"Hmm?"

"I know I couldn't be with you in this life, but promise you'll find me in the next."

Momo tries very hard to keep the wavers out of her voice as she leans over to press one last kiss to Sana's forehead.

"Always."

  
  
  


_1 Year Later_

It's early March. New buds are just reaching up over the thin layer of snow that coats the ground, a sign of flowers that will blossom into beautiful colors in the coming months. Momo looks up at the one constant sign of life in the meadow: a beautiful sakura, its pink leaves blooming amongst the grey and white and streaks of green.

It's been a year since Sana passed, a year since Sana's constant light left to join that of the heavens, where it truly belonged.

A lot happens in a year.

Dr. Im has a new patient, a young boy with dimples deep as the sea and a small tumor in his brain. Dr. Yoo and Dr. Park are busy more often than not, tirelessly dedicated to helping children with weak or damaged hearts. 

Mina's a year deep in college, studying hard to get her degree in biochemistry. They say she'll graduate in three years instead of four, one of the brightest candidates for medical school. She hasn't stopped dreaming of a cure for cancer. Across the city, Tzuyu is a senior in high school, already aiming for that degree in veterinary studies. Mina thinks that if Tzuyu wanted, she could do anything. Momo would have to agree.

A lot happens in a year, but also nothing at all.

Momo breathes in the fresh air in the meadow and marvels at the birds singing through the trees, gracing the early morning air with their clear, pure melodies. Despite all of the sadness, the pink sakura is as beautiful as ever.

Nothing's changed. She's still the same, but maybe a bit heavier.

Momo carefully removes the lid of the urn at her side and takes a reverent handful of the ashes within, sprinkling them out on the emerging green grass. _You would have liked it here,_ Momo thinks.

She watches as the wind carries some of the ashes away, and the rest melt slowly into the ground, covered by layers of water and ice, the earth forever leaving a trace of Sana at the base of the sakura tree.

As Momo leaves, she touches the breast pocket of her jacket, just above her heart. The skin that lies beneath is tattooed with two butterflies, one a mosaic of pink and purple wings and the other brightest blue, hers and Sana's names inked next to each in careful hiragana.

The blue butterfly is perfect save for the slight bend of its twisted wing, but, to Momo, it's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen. 

_end._

**Author's Note:**

> Scream at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/seulgified97) or [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/orange_creamsicle)


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